


Not a Hormonal Condition

by James_Spencer



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: FTM, Gen, Smut, Trans!Andy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:55:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22229794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/James_Spencer/pseuds/James_Spencer
Summary: Alright, perhaps one might notice that Andy’s life has changed a fair amount, if one were to think about it.
Relationships: Miranda Priestly/Andrea Sachs
Comments: 30
Kudos: 247





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This idea came to me randomly while I was stoned out of my mind one night so I just rolled with it. Andy is trans in this, so if that’s not your cup of tea it’s fine, just move along. 
> 
> Huge, huge, HUGE thank you to the incredible Pax who was so willing to edit this for me. Ily and I appreciate your genius so much.

Andy Sachs hasn’t changed much over the past year and a half. So maybe Andy’s voice has gotten deeper, and if one were to look closely, one might see a hint of stubble gracing Andy’s upper lip and chin. And yes, perhaps Andy’s long brown locks were chopped off in favor of a short, faded cut. So the bylines on Andy’s articles may now read “Andrew Sachs,” and perhaps Andy is viewed as a male throughout his professional and personal lives and...alright, perhaps one might notice that Andy’s life has changed a fair amount, if one were to think about it. 

Miranda Priestly certainly thinks about it. She thinks about Andy - no, Andrew - more than she cares to admit, just as she has done since the first day Andrew stepped foot into _Runway_. It’s difficult not to pay attention to someone who leaves for over a year with no parting words and then returns as another gender. It’s difficult not to pay attention when that person comes back into town and is somehow handed a job mere minutes from Miranda’s office. She doesn’t know why she continues to feel this connection to the young journalist, but it’s an intense feeling, one that Miranda is not accustomed to.  
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Miranda hadn’t heard from Andy for over a year after her young assistant had unceremoniously left their shared car - and subsequently his job at _Runway_ \- in Paris. Once she touched back down in the States, it was as though Andy ceased to exist. She quietly questioned certain individuals, Nigel mostly, but couldn’t find any answers as to where her former assistant had disappeared to. Ohio, perhaps, but Mirandy Priestly wouldn’t be caught dead flying hours away to show up at some former employee’s doorstep to check up on them. Or in Ohio, for that matter.

Instead, she sent Emily, who returned two days later to inform Miranda that, yes, Andy had returned to Ohio, and no, Andy would not be coming back anytime soon. Miranda wanted to pretend that it didn’t bother her. Still, that didn’t stop her from firing the next person who mentioned Andy’s name within fifty feet of Elias-Clarke. It quickly became a widely-known, yet unspoken rule to never speak the name of Miranda’s former assistant.

That rule stayed in place for a little over a year before being broken by none other than Emily, who felt a lump in her throat immediately after saying the forbidden name as she saw Miranda rounding the corner.

“What was that, Emily? What about Andrea?” Miranda asked as she approached the younger woman’s desk.

Emily’s face grew red as she attempted to stutter out a response. “It’s, erm...it’s not...I don’t know how to -”

“Oh, do continue to blubber on like a toddler, please,” Miranda groaned.

Emily stopped talking and took a deep breath to compose herself. “It’s not...I mean, it’s not Andrea anymore. It’s, well, she - er, he...erm, here.” Giving up, she handed Miranda an open copy of The New Yorker. 

Miranda scanned the top of the proffered page and couldn’t contain the gasp that escaped her lips. Underneath the title, in bold black ink, read: **By Andrew Sachs.** Miranda turned away and quickly scrambled to her office. She sat down at her desk and began to glance over the article, losing focus after every other line as her eyes glanced back up to the byline. Andrew. Andrew Sachs. It wouldn’t take long for anybody who knew Andy to correctly guess what this meant, but it didn’t leave them any less shocked, Miranda included.

For the remainder of the day, Miranda’s work lay unfinished as she searched the internet high and low for any information she could find on this subject. Before she knew it, five hours had passed and her eyes were bleary with the intensity of her research. As she packed up her things and walked out of the office, she found herself wondering why this revelation had affected her so deeply.

Miranda exited the building and walked towards her car, nodding at Roy as he smiled and opened the door for her. She glanced out the window as she stowed her bag in the car and her eyes widened. She straightened quickly and blinked several times to make absolutely certain her mind wasn’t playing tricks on her. Surely enough, standing in the doorway of her most frequented Starbucks, was an equally stunned Andy Sachs. His hair was significantly shorter, his jawline was sharper, and he had abandoned Chanel dresses in favor of a navy blue Armani sport coat, but Miranda would never mistake those eyes or that nose or those full lips for anyone else’s.

Before she could think, she was crossing the street. Was there traffic? She honestly didn’t know. Miranda’s body was on autopilot until she reached the doorway. 

“We should probably move away from the door,” Andy said as he took a couple of steps to the left. Miranda swallowed, her throat suddenly dry as she heard her former assistant’s raspy voice. “Um, hi?” Andy smiled tentatively at Miranda in an attempt to break the ice that had formed between them over the past fifteen months. “I guess I should explain?”

Something was stirring inside Miranda that she couldn’t explain; it was the same feeling she’d had back in Paris, right before Andy had left. Her stomach coiled tightly, but not in disgust, and the feeling wasn’t wholly unwelcome. “You are under no obligation to explain anything you’re not comfortable with...Andrew.” Miranda watched as Andy’s eyes widened in wonder. “I’m simply...well...I’m glad to see that you’re back.”

Andrew nodded and smiled softly. “It’s good to be back.”

Both parties stood there in awkward silence, stealing glances at each other before suddenly finding something interesting on the ground before the other could catch them looking. Miranda scoffed at herself internally; she was behaving like an ingenue in some vapid romantic comedy. Andrew cleared his throat to break the silence. “Well, I uh...I have to go. Work at 5 am, I’m sure you know what that’s like. I mean, obviously you do but -”

“I see your penchant for babbling was not a hormonal condition,” Miranda interrupted, the corners of her mouth quirking up just slightly. “Enjoy your night, Andrew. Perhaps I will see you around.”

Andrew nodded and turned away from Miranda. Before taking his first step, he turned back and smiled sweetly; Miranda silently berated herself for the effect that smile still had on her. “It’s really good to see you Miranda,” he said before turning on his heel and walking towards the subway entrance.

Miranda watched him go before quickly crossing the street, this time in her right mind enough to actually watch for cars. On the ride home, her mind roamed over Andy’s general air of calm, or rather the sense of freedom he now exuded. There was an ease about him that she hadn’t seen before, and she couldn’t help her growing smile as she considered just how happy he had looked when his own sweet smile graced his lips.  
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It’s not as though Miranda hasn’t seen Andrew since that night. On countless occasions, Miranda had caught him walking out of Starbucks late at night, and though she wouldn’t admit it to anyone, it may be that she leaves at the same time every night, just for a chance to glimpse the young man. He would always wave at her or give her his signature toothy grin, which Miranda would return with a small, purse-lipped smile of her own. They never talk, and perhaps it’s for the best. That doesn’t prevent Miranda from repeatedly having to talk herself out of walking the extra 40 feet to approach the young man every time she sees him.

Miranda would be lying to herself if she said she wasn’t attracted to Andrew. Even before everything had changed, she had always found her assistant to be incredibly easy on the eyes and would feel her skin burn for hours after the most casual touch. To admit that to anyone - especially Andy himself - was unthinkable, but what Miranda does or thinks about in private is Miranda’s business alone. So what if thoughts of soft lips and even softer skin transformed into strong arms encircling her waist the moment Andy strode back into her life? And what does it matter if her imagination, which had once wished for long, dark hair to tickle her thighs, replaced those locks with rough stubble as the newly minted Andrew worked his tongue over Miranda in her mind’s eye? Her private thoughts are hers and hers alone and they don’t matter.

It doesn’t help that Miranda has these thoughts in public though. It certainly doesn’t help when she has those thoughts about the very person walking directly towards her now with two flutes of champagne in his hands and a familiar goofy grin plastered on his face. They were bound to meet at one of these industry events, Miranda knows this, so it’s not a complete surprise that the up-and-coming journalist has found his way into this particularly exclusive soiree.

Miranda nods her thanks as Andy hands her one of the flutes and jokes, “I was considering taking up sign language to at least be able to communicate with you from across the street, but it wouldn’t do much good if you didn’t understand it. Speak any ASL?”

“Unfortunately I do not. Perhaps it could be useful to learn something of the sort. It would bring an air of inclusivity to the fashion industry, wouldn’t you say Andrew?”

Andrew shrugs. “Last I checked, high fashion isn’t known for its treatment of minorities in any form, really.” 

Miranda nods in agreement. She sips her champagne slowly, moving her eyes over Andrew as she does so. His suit jacket lays folded over his arm, and his white button down shirt looks as if it’s molded to him. Miranda can’t help but trace the shape of his muscled arms with her eyes, only brought back to earth when Andrew clears his throat.

She downs the last sip of her champagne and quickly composes herself. “So would you like an interview?” To Andy’s quizzical look, she adds, “For your article.”

“Oh! Right. I think I’m good for now, I got most of what I needed earlier.” He pauses hesitantly before continuing, “Actually, I might’ve rushed it at the end today. I heard you were gonna be here, and I was hoping to get to talk to you.”

Miranda doesn’t bother to hide the shocked look on her face. “Me? But why?”

Andrew shrugs. A waiter walks past and he replaces their empty champagne glasses with two full ones. “Honestly, I don’t know. I wanted to...I guess catch up, maybe?” When Miranda doesn’t respond, he blurts, “But I’m sure you’re busy and I know you have to go talk to a bunch of people and I probably should’ve thought of that before assuming that you’d wanna spend your evening talking to your former assistant and -”

“Still with the babbling?” Miranda teases. “I admit that I have been hoping to run into you at one of these events for quite some time. However, I do need to mingle for a bit longer.”

Andy nods. “I understand. I’ll probably head out -”

Miranda cuts him off with a raised finger. “I have a room here.” As sure and confident as the words escaping her lips were, she and Andy were simultaneously struck by the double meaning in them, judging by his raised eyebrows. “I-I mean, if you wanted to...to catch up, not that -”

“Still with the babbling?” Andrew says lightheartedly.

Miranda lightly swats at his arm and oh she can feel his muscles just from that miniscule tap. “I...would not be opposed to your company tonight if you would like to talk,” she explains carefully as she tries to regulate her rapid heartbeat. For God’s sake, get a grip, she thinks to herself. 

Andrew grins. “I’d love that, Miranda.” He downs the rest of his champagne quickly and glances around the room. “Well, I won’t waste your time -”

“Nonsense Andrew, this is not a waste of -”

Andrew cuts her off. “I won’t waste your time right now because I want to be able to see you as soon as possible,” he says, and if Miranda didn’t know any better, she’d say he was flirting with her. Andrew turns on his heel and begins to walk away before awkwardly returning to her side. “I should probably get that room number, don’t you think?”

Amused, she nods. “848. End of the hallway. I should finish up here within the hour.” She opens her clutch and fishes out her spare key card. “If you wish to get away from the party, you are welcome to go on up there. Do make yourself at home, Andrew.”

This is probably not her brightest idea. If she considers it long enough, she could come up with an analogy about letting Andy enter her room as easily as she let him enter her life, but she’s not going to think about that, not when Andrew Sachs is giving her that dopey grin that still makes her knees weak, even after so long.

“I’ll be discreet about it,” he says as he pockets the card. “Wouldn’t want people to get the wrong idea,” he says with a wink, and walks off. Miranda feels the flush travel up her chest to her neck and eventually her cheeks and she thanks whatever deity that is above for the makeup that hides her blush from the crowd around her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow okay don’t hate me but this fic kinda slipped my mind for a bit. Anyways, I hope y’all enjoy and I hope this chapter makes up for me abandoning it for months. Also big thanks to Dina (imunbreakabledude) for beta-ing for me! If y’all are into Killing Eve, I definitely suggest checking out her fics!

Miranda sighs deeply as she enters the elevator. What was supposed to be an additional 45 minutes tops turned into an hour and a half long conversation about last October’s edition of Runway. Utterly pointless, she thinks as the elevator slowly creeps up to her floor. A wave of nervousness hits her as she steps out. Andrew is probably in her room right now, perhaps working on his article while we waits. Or maybe he’s fixing himself a drink and relaxing on the incredibly comfortable sofa. 

Miranda slides the key in the lock and opens the door. She peers around the room in confusion, as Andy is nowhere to be found. A door opens to the left of her and Miranda suddenly can’t breathe. Andy walks out of the bathroom with only a towel around his waist. Miranda can’t help but stare, no, gawk at the younger man. It only takes Andy a couple of seconds to notice Miranda and his eyes go wide. 

“Shit! Fuck!” he exclaims as he hastily grabs his clothes and races back into the bathroom. “I’m sorry Miranda, I- ow! Shit, hold on a second.”

With Andy out of the room, Miranda hesitantly steps forward, making sure her legs don’t give out as she does, and makes her way to the edge of the bed. She removes her shawl and throws her clutch down on the bedside table. She grabs her phone and looks at it, not that she can concentrate on anything except the way the water on his skin rolled down his arms or the dark trail of hair that traveled down his navel to his waist and below the towel and his chest and-

“Hey uh, I’m sorry about that,” Andy says as he shyly walks out of the bathroom. “I didn’t know when you were coming back and I needed a shower so I just decided that-”

Miranda holds her hand up. “It’s fine, I told you to make yourself at home.” She stands up to face Andrew. He’s thrown his slacks back on, as well as his button down. Well, halfway because he neglected to actually button it back up, and Miranda has to tear her eyes away from the strip of visible skin leading from his neck down to the waistline of his pants. “Drink?” She quickly moves to the fridge in the room and pulls out a bottle of scotch and two glasses.

“So, Andrew,” Miranda begins, handing Andy one of the glasses before sitting down next to him on the couch. “I won’t pretend like I’m not curious to know about your life since leaving me, er, Runway, but I do not want to force you to tell me anything.”

Andy takes a sip of his drink. “What do you want to know?”

“I don’t want to make you un-”

Andy interrupts her, and if it were anybody else, Miranda would’ve already chewed them up and spit them out. “For you I’m an open book, just ask.” He reaches out and covers Miranda’s hand with his own, squeezing softly before quickly releasing it.

“Okay, but please do let me know if any lines are crossed.” Andrew nods. “How did you...I mean did you always know that, well, that you were…” Miranda trails off.

“Trans?” Miranda nods hesitantly. “I mean, I don’t think I always knew but I knew that something didn’t feel right, ya know? Even after changing my wardrobe and everything, I still didn’t feel like...well, like me, I guess. Does that make sense? Probably not, um, it wasn’t until about three months after I left Runway that I ended up admitting it to myself, and then another two months before I did anything about it.”

“Did anything?”

“Got on hormones,” Andrew explains. “That’s why my voice is so deep and-”

“And why you’re growing facial hair and, um, body hair,” Miranda finishes. Andy looks taken aback. “I may have done a little research on the topic myself.”

Andrew smiles and oh it’s so soft and Miranda can’t help but smile back. They stay like that for a moment before Andrew clears his throat to break the silence. “So, uh, any more questions?”

Miranda thinks for a moment. “Your parents? Your family? Are they okay with all of this?”

“Oh yeah, they’re fine with it. It took them a minute to get the pronouns right, but I guess that happens when you live as one person for 25 years. The name was easy though, seeing as most people still call me Andy.”

Miranda wants to pay attention, she really does, but she can’t help that her gaze keeps shifting downward. It must be obvious because the next thing Andy says is “I can show you them if you really wanna see,” and Miranda has to think real hard about what he’s talking about and- oh, Andrew pulls the shirt off his arms and now he’s sitting on Miranda’s couch shirtless and heat is travelling right to the center of Miranda’s legs. She shifts around in an attempt to relieve the pressure. 

“I had surgery about eight months ago, it’s healing really nice, see?” He points to his chest and surely enough, there are two long, faded scars across his chest. Miranda examines the scars from a distance, not trusting herself to move any closer. “It took a good five or six months to get sensation back. Honestly I was worried it never would for a second there.”

“Your surgical results are outstanding,” Miranda says softly, her voice cracking as she tries to hide her obvious arousal. “I mean, just from what I’ve seen in my research, this looks like an impeccable job.”

Andy smiles proudly. “Yeah, I’m pretty happy with it too.” Miranda meets his eyes once again and she can swear they’ve gotten darker. “You can...you can touch them if you want, the scars I mean, or my chest or whatever,” he says nervously. 

Miranda keeps her hands firmly planted in her lap. “Oh I wouldn’t want to, no, it wouldn’t be right.”

Andrew reaches out and grabs Miranda’s wrist, pulling her hand to his chest. “Please, I don’t, I don’t mind.” Miranda feels like she’s on fire as her palm is placed firmly right below his left pectoral muscle. He lets go of her wrist and she lightly traces her finger across the scar on his left side, followed by its twin on the right. She looks up at his face as her hand starts to move higher up and her breath catches. Andrew’s eyes are darker than she’s ever seen, and she can feel his breathing get heavier underneath her hand. Carefully, she scoots closer to him and extends her other hand out to touch the opposite side of his chest. The palms of her hands barely brush over his nipples but it’s enough to feel his breath catch in his chest. 

“Exquisite,” she mutters softly. She moves her hands up higher, over his collarbones, shoulders, and then back down his arms. She stops at his biceps and squeezes, feeling the hard muscles underneath. 

“Miranda,” he whispers hoarsely. “Do you, I mean, how long have you-”

“Since before Paris,” she explains. “I have always found myself drawn towards you, before you left, and even now. I cannot begin to fathom why or how you made such an impact on me, but it is one that nobody has come close to.” She moves her hands down, trailing over his forearms, his wrists, and finally to his hands. She entwines their fingers. “I can only hope that you believe me when I say that this, whatever it may be, is not anything new or anything spurred on by your transition, Andrew.” Andrew nods slowly and removes his hands from Miranda’s, who looks down disappointedly. She has very little time to think, though, before Andrew leans in and kisses her firmly. 

Miranda whimpers unexpectedly at the first touch of Andrew’s lips to hers. She feels the stubble of his beard scratch along her chin as she continues to kiss him. She feels him push her softly and she allows him to guide her down on the couch before resting his weight on top of her. One of Andy’s hands makes its way to Miranda’s hair while the other grips her waist. Miranda opens her mouth slightly, allowing Andrew’s tongue to slip inside and she moans at the first taste. She wraps her arms around his back, grasping onto his shoulders for dear life as their kisses get deeper and deeper. 

She feels Andrew bite down on her lip roughly and her hips jerk upwards in response. Andrew notices and shifts around so that his knee is positioned between her legs. Miranda almost pouts when he breaks the kiss, but all thoughts exit her mind as he presses his leg upward, sending a jolt of pleasure through Miranda’s body. He does it again, and again, and Miranda meets his thrusts with her own until she’s practically humping his leg, and fuck if she keeps going she’s going to come and while she wants to, she doesn’t want it to be like this. 

“Andrew, oh my, Andrew stop, stop, stop,” she whimpers. Andrew’s eyes widen and he shuffles off of her and into a standing position.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, are you okay?” He starts pacing in front of the couch. “I’m so sorry Miranda, I just thought that you wanted…” He trails off as Miranda moves off of the couch. She stands up, reaching behind herself, and slowly pulls the zipper of her dress down. She takes a step towards Andrew and pushes the dress of her shoulders. They both watch as it falls into a puddle on the floor. 

Miranda takes another step forward. And another. And one more and she’s not even an inch away from Andrew. She moves her eyes over him slowly, as if memorizing every single inch of him. She puts one hand back on his chest and slowly moves down, lightly grazing the trail of hair leading down below his waist. She stops at the waistline of his slacks and looks back up at him. He grabs her wrist, a little more forcefully this time, not that Miranda minds at all, and moves it down to between his legs and, oh, oh, she feels it. She quickly drops to her knees, as graceful as ever because she is still Miranda Priestly after all. Her hands shake as she unzips Andrew’s slacks. She runs her palm over the bulge in his pants and he groans and thrusts forward. 

“Is this okay?” she asks, not wanting to overstep any boundaries he may or may not have. Andy just nods frantically and Miranda reaches inside his slacks and pulls the silicone member out. She looks up at him as she darts her tongue out over the head before taking the shaft into her mouth. The groan that escapes his lips is like music to Miranda’s ears. She knows that realistically it doesn’t feel like much to him, but his soft whimpers and groans and the way he thrusts back against her as she takes even more of him down her throat is encouragement enough to keep going. 

Andrew moves his hands to her hair to help steady his thrusts. Miranda knows she’s doing something right as his thrusts get more and more hurried. She moans around his cock as he tightens his grip on her hair. “Fuck, I’m sorry,” Miranda makes it a point to swallow more of him to encourage him to keep doing it. He gets the hint and tangles his hand back in her hair. “M’close,” he groans as he thrusts harder. Miranda breathes heavily through her nose as he pulls and thrusts erratically, and she can feel the wetness between her legs pool as she brings Andrew closer to his orgasm. With a couple more thrusts, Andrew freezes. His mouth is wide open, but no sound comes out as he starts to shake and quiver. Miranda reaches around, grabbing his ass through his pants as he rides out his orgasm, still thrusting into Miranda’s mouth. As he comes down, Miranda lets go and pulls away. 

She knows she looks positively wrecked on her knees in nothing but her simple black La Perla lingerie set with her hair flying across her face, her pupils blown wide, and spit surrounding her mouth. Her panties are completely ruined, but that’s okay. She looks up at Andrew who has his arm over his eyes as he tries to maintain some composure. “I could get used to that,” she says as she makes her way back to her feet. “Feeling you lose control, the way your body shook as you came in my mouth, yes, I quite enjoyed that.” She steps forward, pushing Andrew backwards. “Did you, Andrew?” Another step. “Did you enjoy the way I got on my knees for you?” Another step. She leans in this time, letting her lips brush his earlobe. “Do you want to see what it did to me?”

Miranda doesn’t get to take another step forward before Andrew swings them around and pushes Miranda back until she falls backwards onto the bed. Andrew quickly rids himself of his shirt and wastes no time in getting down on his knees in front of her. He moves his hands up and down Miranda’s thighs, parting them as he goes. “Fuck,” he says as he sees the dark spot on the lace center of Miranda’s thong. “Do you know how many times I’ve imagined this?” He pulls her towards the edge of the bed. Miranda is practically shaking. “God, even before I left Paris, I wanted you.” He leans in and kisses the growing wet spot and Miranda arches up. “I imagined this so many fucking times,” he growls as he kisses the insides of her thighs. Miranda twitches with each touch of his lips, with each touch of his beard against her smooth skin. “You don’t know how many times I wanted to crawl underneath your desk, to slide my tongue inside of you.”

“Andrew, please,” she begs. She sucks in a breath as he finally removes the ruined scrap of lace. She whines as she feels the cool air hit her glistening heat. Andrew continues to press kisses to her thighs, moving higher and higher at an achingly slow pace. “Ahh!” she moans as he bites into the soft flesh of her thigh, no doubt leaving a mark. “Andrew, Andrew please, I need you- Oh, oh!” All words die on her lips as Andrew’s tongue makes contact and she already knows she’s not going to last long. He circles her clit before traveling down further, lapping up every ounce of wetness that he can. 

Miranda thrusts her hips forward, attempting to gain more friction against Andrew’s talented tongue. “Oh, don’t tease me, please, oh please,” she begs, yes, begs, as if her life depended on it, and honestly it feels like she’s going to die if she doesn’t get to come soon, so it might. Andrew, as he always has, obeys her orders and moves his lips to Miranda’s clit and starts to softly suck. “Oh god, yes yes, you’re so good, so good Andrew!” Miranda can’t stop the praises that escape her lips, which only seem to spur him on even more. Miranda swears she sees stars when Andrew presses a long finger inside her and curling it. “Close, so close,” she warns him and with one final thrust and his tongue pressed flat against her clit, Miranda’s eyes screw shut and she arches off the bed as her orgasm takes over. 

Her thighs squeeze around Andrew’s head but that doesn’t stop him from thrusting into her or sucking on her clit and within seconds she’s thrown into a second orgasm. Andrew lets her ride out her orgasm before pulling his finger out of her. As Miranda comes down from her high, she opens her eyes to see Andrew standing in between her legs. “You are so fucking beautiful,” he says softly before smiling at her. 

Miranda smiles back and looks at the handsome man before her, Her eyes travel down his chest, his stomach, and, oh. A new wave of arousal hits her like a freight train as she sees his cock still out of his pants. Andy must know that she’s staring, because he smirks at her before taking his cock in his hand. Miranda licks her lips as Andrew starts to slowly stroke it. She whimpers when he leans down and dips two fingers inside of her, coating them with her arousal before rubbing it over his cock. 

“Andrew?” 

“Yes Miranda?”

Miranda crooks a finger. “Why don’t you come here and show me what else you imagined doing with me.” Let it be known that Andrew Sachs does not need to be told twice to complete a task. Before she can even finish speaking, Andrew’s slacks are off and he’s straddling Miranda’s lap. 

“I’ve always wondered what these would feel like in my hands,” he says as he cups her bra-clad breasts. “Wondered what they’d feel like in my mouth.” As if on cue, Miranda sits up and reaches behind herself to undo her bra. She quickly pulls it off, flinging it across the room. 

“Why don’t you find out then?” She asks playfully before laying back down, pulling the younger man down with her. Their lips press together roughly before he moves down, sliding his tongue over Miranda’s earlobe and neck and down to her collarbone. “Mmm, lower,” she orders and Andrew can’t help but comply. When his tongue swirls around Miranda’s already hard nipple, she hisses and grabs at his head, pressing him down harder. His free hand moves to Miranda’s other breast. She groans as he pinches one nipple and nibbles on the other. 

“And-Andrew,” she whispers, wrapping her legs around his waist. “Inside, please, oh I need you inside of me.” He wastes no time in giving Miranda just what she needs. They moan in unison as he slowly pushes himself inside of the older woman.

“Is it okay?” he asks. Miranda nods and begins to press against him, urging him to go deeper. “More?” Miranda nods and he slides all the way in. Miranda immediately clenches around him. “Can I move?” She nods frantically and she cries out as he starts to move inside of her. Miranda wraps her arms around Andrew’s neck and she pulls him down until his lips touch the base of her throat.

Between the feeling of his teeth gently nipping at her throat, and the firm yet gentle way he fills her, Miranda can already feel her orgasm closing in. “Mmmm, more, harder, harder Andrew, god I need it,” Miranda babbles on as Andrew picks up the pace. She’s so fucking close. She reaches between them, rubbing circles on her clit as that familiar heat begins to uncoil. “Gonna come,” she barely gets out before she’s screaming and arching up into Andrew who continues to thrust into her relentlessly. “Oh god, I can’t, I can’t,” she begs, thankful when Andrew obliges and pulls out. 

“Turn over,” he says sternly. “Hands and knees.” Miranda does it, as if she’s under some kind of trance. Not even a minute ago she was begging him to stop, and now she’s on all fours and feels another wave of arousal hit her as Andrew wordlessly pulls her hips up. “God, I’ve wanted to fuck you like this for so long.” He enters Miranda with little effort and she feels her whole body go limp. “So many times I’ve wanted to throw you down on your desk and take you like this.” His thrusts speed up. Miranda grips the pillow in front of her. “You would’ve let me, wouldn’t you Miranda?” She can’t speak. Her mouth opens but no words come out so she just nods. “Fuck you feel so much better than I ever imagined.” God, she’s so close now but she’s so spent. Miranda honestly doesn’t know if she can handle another orgasm.

“Andrew, I can’t, I- oh god,” she loses all train of thought as he pounds into her relentlessly. “M’gonna...come with me, please, please, please, PLEASE!” She screams as she’s thrown into her fourth orgasm of the night. Andrew groans as his orgasm takes over at the same time as Miranda’s. He continues to thrust inside of her as they ride out their orgasms together. Andrew pulls out of Miranda and she’s surprised she doesn’t collapse, but then she feels a pair of arms wrap around her stomach and turn her over.

Andrew lays back on the bed and pulls Miranda next to him. She rests her head on his chest as she tries to regulate her breathing. He draws soothing circles on the nape of her neck that are sure to put her to sleep if he continues. “You’re going to put me to sleep,” she warns him as she wraps an arm around his waist. 

“Isn’t that the point?” He asks jokingly. “I mean I thought I was pretty close before.”

Miranda nods. “You weren’t too far off.”

“I guess we need to talk about-”

Miranda presses a finger to his lips. “I cannot even form coherent thoughts right now, so the last thing I want to do is have a serious conversation after having, admittedly, the best sex of my life.” That last part of her sentence is barely a whisper. Andy's cocky smile is quickly wiped away when Miranda says, “Don’t get cocky, or you’ll never get the chance to do it again.”

Andrew nods. He kisses the top of Miranda’s head and as much as she hates to admit it, the little kiss gives her one of the warmest feelings inside. Andrew reaches over and turns off the light. “Sleep now, talk tomorrow?”

Miranda nods sleepily. She turns over on her side, pulling Andrew with her, and presses her back against his chest. 

So yes, maybe there’s quite a bit about Andy Sachs that had changed. Miranda’s feelings for Andy, though? They stayed the same.

**Author's Note:**

> Hit me up on tumblr @spencyfrenchy if you wanna chat or yell at me


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